And So It Is
by creepy susie
Summary: Harry's seclusion from the world hurts more than just himself.


AN: I don't think I could possibly thank them enough, but I must say it.

Special thanks go to RavenclawDrew and manaslover!

Before I forget, I do not own any of the characters.

You never heard me walk into the Common Room, or maybe you did, preferring to ignore me. There you were, sitting in front of the blazing fire beneath the mantle. As the flames crackled and hissed towards you, you didn't flinch or react to them at all, as though you were waiting for someone to floo right out and negate their potential lethality. But this time, it wouldn't be Sirius.

You barely left that exact seat for days. Even when you weren't there, people who passed by knew that seat was yours, as if your name was branded into the leather surface of the chesterfield.

Your complexion over that time achieved a new degree of pallor. Well, what did you expect? You hadn't left the confines of the castle and I couldn't even remember the last time you allowed the harmful rays of the sun to peek upon you.

But your skin was beyond pale. It was almost translucent. I was so afraid if I looked away from you, you would disappear… like Ron.

The bags under your eyes seemed to claim more and more of your face with each passing day. You looked so weary. I know you didn't sleep for weeks, not that I blamed you. None of us could sleep in the same way we once had. Not after what had happened.

15 May 1997.

I remember it was a beautiful, sunny day.

It was Saturday. The start of a beautiful weekend and naturally enough, it was also a Hogsmeade weekend. Hogsmeade Village had always been a wonderful and fun experience for all of us students at Hogwarts. It was a place where we could escape the narrow hallways and oppressive dungeons of school. In first and second year, we were pretty much confined within the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds. Even if we wandered down to the lake or to Hagrid's, we were still on Hogwarts territory with little chance of freedom.

But, Hogsmeade?

It was the social gathering place of every teenager. It was the muggle equivalent of a shopping mall for high school students. It was our sanctuary away from home… away from home.

Does that make sense?

Anyway, as I said, it was a beautiful, sunny day. You had originally planned to visit Zonko's or Honeydukes with Ron and me. But I wanted to stay in the library, considering there was just a little more than a month left until the final exams. Being the studious Hermione that I am and a school prefect, I opted to stay behind in the library to study.

You begged me to take a day off. Ron threatened to transfigure my books into butterflies so I would simply have to leave the library to catch them. You know what Ron said, "Follow the butterflies!" Merlin knows that if he tried to transfigure my books, he would be the one with six legs and multi-coloured wings.

Eventually, the two of you acquiesced to my wishes ("Bloody stupid demands," Ron called them) and left me to my books and left for Hogsmeade without me. That argument… that silly argument was the last time I would ever see one of my very best friends. If there is one regret I have in this lifetime, it would be the choice to stay behind and let the two of go on without me.

I wasn't there. I should have been. But I wasn't.

You probably sat at our table in the rear of The Three Broomsticks, waiting for Madam Rosmerta to deliver our usual round of butterbeers. I can imagine you and Ron intensely discussing some wild Quidditch manoeuvres while laughing and joking like any normal sixteen year old wizards should. But that day would turn out to be anything but normal.

I think the Death Eaters knew they were on a suicide mission. It was a "do or die" kind of thing. Voldemort still hadn't known about the "_either must die at the hands of the other_" bit from the prophecy. If he had, he may not have sent three rather mediocre Death Eaters to finish his job.

Long story short, they didn't succeed; they sure got one hell of a consolation prize.

Poor Ron. Poor, stupid, stupid Ron.

He always wanted to be a hero, but he would never have the chance to bask in its light.

Days passed slowly into weeks until a full month had passed since his death, and still you sat.

That time was always so frightening for me; not the sort of fright one might experience in an encounter with a dementor. I was frightened I would trigger something inside of you to make you withdraw further into yourself, and further away from me.

An entire month passed trying to tiptoe around you. I brought you food, I brought you blankets, I brought you companionship, all of which you silently refused. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I had to take care of you. In a sense, it felt like I was trying to nurse a comatose patient back to health. I was trying to baby you. I wanted to wrap you up tight and hold you close and take away all your pain.

It was so very hard. On one hand, I lost my best friend. On the other, I felt I was about to lose you, too. You never saw how much I cried, night after night. But for each night I cried, for every tear I shed, it just didn't seem like it would ever be enough to ease my pain. My heart still ached when I saw you. My eyes still watered when I thought about Ron. But I couldn't let it show. I had to be the strong Hermione everyone expected me to be.

Maybe I didn't let out enough when I was alone. Maybe all the nights I cried just weren't helping. I spent so much time caring for you, I never gave any regard for the way I was feeling. Then that night, I think something inside the both of us finally snapped.

So many details of that night are lost to me; others I remember with perfect and painful clarity.

Strange how that works.

It started with a stray lock of hair that draped over your eye. You didn't do anything to move it so I tried to do it for you. At that point, I still grieved for what you had experienced. But that feeling rapidly faded when I saw the look on your face.

You had never been so rough with me before. Before my hand could brush away your hair, you stood up and jumped away. For a moment I could see just a glimmer of sadness and remorse before you looked back at me and stared at me with a look of loathing and contempt usually reserved for Malfoy. You looked at me as though I was some sort of… mudblood.

You were not the only one to lose their temper that night.

Like I said, something inside me just snapped. I had done nothing but care for you and you looked at me like I was nothing. I couldn't stand it any longer; I was not your punching bag to explode on when ever you felt the need. I must have looked like a fright. I could hear the thunder rumble in the background. I can only say my anger completely overtook me. That's the only excuse I have for what I did.

All the adrenaline in my body pumped through me. I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to do something to you that made you feel as betrayed as I did. The only person I have ever physically harmed was Malfoy. I never thought I would do the same to you.

I slapped you. I slapped you with all the force I could muster. I don't think I even tried to slap Malfoy that hard. I just couldn't stand your indifference anymore.

This next part gets a little fuzzy for me. I don't remember how it started or who started it. There was so much anger and tension between us. I don't know how that turned into a desperate, fierce attraction.

We weren't gentle; we weren't nice. It was feral, it was untamed. It felt like a release from our normal lives, though 'normal' was hardly the right word to describe anything at that moment. Our lips smashed into one another, our hands clawing at tearing at one another's clothes as though our lives depended on it.

One thing easily lead to another.

And we never spoke a word to each other.

I woke up the next morning starkers and feeling sore in all the wrong places… places that had no right to be sore. But it really didn't bother me that much. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that I was alone. The feeling of loneliness was much more painful than anything I had felt since Ron's death. You know I hate being alone.

I thought you had left me; left me to deal with these demons on my own. I never thought you would just shag me and leave.

I dreaded going down to the Great Hall because it would mean that I would have to pass the common room and I didn't know if I should say anything or just keep walking and pretend nothing had even happened.

That night we spent together was the most amazing night of my life. We never spoke through it. I always imagined my first time being filled with kisses and love; something deeply poignant and full of meaning, like the fairy tales you find in muggle movies where the man would carry the girl into the bedroom and so on.

That didn't happen. But it doesn't matter.

I got out of bed and some how slogged down to the common room, jitters of nervous expectations clamouring for release in my stomach. I was really nervous. Could you blame me?

What was I supposed to say?

Should I even say anything at all?

Do I tell someone?

Probably not.

You weren't in the Common Room. I didn't know whether I should be happy, relieved or worried. I was happy and relieved that I didn't have to face you that morning for some awkward conversation and worried because I had no idea where you were.

When I didn't see you in the Common Room, I didn't know whether I should go to the Great Hall or not. It was like I was watching myself in a 'D' rated horror picture, when you scream at the telly, "Don't go up the stairs! Don't go up the stairs!" but the protagonist does it nonetheless.

I walked into the Great Hall. It was just so quiet. The proverbial silence was killing me. I looked over to the Gryffindor table and sure enough, there you were, eating alone in silence.

Breakfast ended in silence. Classes were uneventful. Exams were coming up and I didn't even care. Did you see what you did to me? I became idle and negligent in my studies, the thing I feared the most. All I could think about was you. Every moment of every day I pondered how I could possibly face you again. For the first time in my life, there was no book to turn to, no spell that could make everything right between us. I could not find my answers in books and cleverness. My frustration merely mounted, like a succession of bricks, to the impenetrable wall of silence growing between us.

The exams passed uneventfully and we still hadn't spoken a word to each other.

Soon the train came to take us back to our temporary homes. I walked up beside you as we boarded; I prayed for you to give me a single word.

I got my wish.

"We need to talk," you said in a mechanical voice completely devoid of emotion. It scared me quite a bit.

"Alright," I managed to squeak out.

We found an empty compartment and sat inside.

We were quiet for a long while, until you finally spoke up.

"I know what you are thinking. It's not going to happen again."

I sat in stunned silence, staring down at my hands. First and foremost, I really wasn't thinking about us getting together again, but I guessed that you were referring to the night we spent together. Secondly, I was depressed. I knew I loved you, but your words shattered my heart into many pieces.

"I think it's time you know that I just used you that night. So don't owl me next time you need a mercy-shag, mudblood."

I couldn't say anything. I couldn't speak. No words could escape my lips.

So I left.

20 July 1997

The cup just stood there. The timer was slowly ticking away the required two minutes before it would give its results.

I was so stupid. I was stupid for letting myself love you. Stupid for ever being your friend. Stupid for everything.

I didn't even really notice the fact that I had missed my period. I thought it was simply from the stress I was going through with Ron's death and your self-imposed seclusion and rejection of me.

God, I was stupid. It never even crossed my mind the next morning to go to Madam Pomfrey or something.

All the horrible thoughts flooded my brain.

I was afraid that you would tell me to abort the child. It's not like you would have spontaneously fallen in love with me if I told you. I never really did believe you when you said those harsh words on the train. Maybe I was just delusional. How could I have believed that one night with you could have changed anything?

Timer rings

It was the moment of truth.

I was pregnant… with your child.

25 July 1997

I informed Professor Dumbledore concerning my planned year's sabbatical. He was very supportive of it. He understood completely, and with the terror that Voldemort was wreaking, it was vitally important that no one know about the child until the whole mess blew over. Dumbledore was afraid that someone would find out and use that information against me, or more importantly, you. He provided me with a portkey to Canada until I was ready to come back. I don't want people to know about what happened. The last thing I need are people talking about my pregnancy behind my back.

What would they have thought? That the morally righteous Hermione Granger had unprotected sex with the boy-who-lived and was pregnant with his baby?

I didn't want anyone to know. I told Professor Dumbledore only because I had to. My mother wasn't very happy, but was she realised it was never in her best interest to shout at a pregnant woman.

My mother came up with the idea of taking a sabbatical year off so I could care for my body as I grew into my pregnancy. I owled Ginny. She suggested the same. And if anyone from my year asked, she would tell them that I had transferred to a school in Canada… some remote and unplottable island off the shores of the Queen Charlotte Islands.

To everyone, I looked fine. I didn't let anyone see how much I was hurting. They couldn't have done anything anyways. All I really needed was to talk to you.

I couldn't leave until I knew once and for all how everything between us was going to end. I knew that you didn't mean those words that you said before. I just knew it. We were friends for six long years; you couldn't have wanted me to leave just like that.

That's how I ended up in front of the Dursley's house.

Vernon was definitely not pleased.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he shouted.

"I need to speak with Harry, please" I managed to squeak out. I never really did imagine that Vernon would be that intimidating… and large.

He looked at me straight on with a fearsome glare. "I will not have your… sort around my property! Leave now before I summon the authorities!"

I don't know why I started crying. I was pretty sure that I was going to be strong that day. My eyes started to pour and everything I said just seemed to come out in mumbles.

"Oh, goodness! Hold on!" he shouted at me. I think he murmured something about leaky women, but I really didn't care.

A moment later you showed up. Your expression was blank. I stopped crying at this point. I don't know when I stopped. I just did.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. Your voice was full of malice; it scared me so much that I considered going back home and forgetting the entire encounter. You looked thinner. I supposed that you weren't getting any more sleep than you were getting before.

"I need to talk to you."

"Not here; you'll scare the muggles."

All I could do was nod. I didn't trust my voice considering all the crying I did. We walked down to a local café in silence. We finally sat down at a quiet little spot outside.

I didn't know how to tell you. How was I supposed to break it to you? _'Hi Harry, remember that time we had sex? Well, that sperm you injected into my uterus has now sprung a foetus! Isn't that exciting!' _

"What did you want to tell me?" Your voice was so intimidating. My train of thought came to a halt. I had to give you an answer but I didn't know how to start.

"I… I wanted to ask you something," I whimpered.

"I haven't got all day, mudblood."

I didn't think those words could ever hurt me as much as they had before. I was wrong. This time, they were even more spiteful and painful. I couldn't believe they would be coming from you.

"I want to give you one last chance to change your mind, Harry. Tell me that you don't mean the things that you said. I know you love me. Please just say it, even if you don't mean it. I just need to hear it once." Surprisingly, I hadn't started crying yet. I knew I had to be strong; I didn't want to show you how much you intimidated me. 'Please".

"So the mudblood wants another romp, I see. Has the loneliness gone to your filthy brain? I said that I was done with you!"

"Harry, please talk to me. This isn't like you. I know you are upset over Ron's death, but you can't keep it inside. Please… please talk to me." I pleaded. I reached for your hand and squeezed it. You relaxed for a second before snatching your hand away from me.

"GET LOST! I don't ever want to hear you say his name again! Get out of my sight," you hissed at me.

I got my answer. You either stopped loving me when Ron left or you never loved me in the first place. As much as I still loved you, there was only so much abuse I could take at that moment. I slowly got out of my chair and walked away. I didn't need to look back because there was nothing left. I wasn't really looking around. I kept staring at my feet.

I didn't see the bus.

And I didn't see anything afterwards.

When I awoke, I didn't know what day it was. I didn't know what had happened. I woke up and I was in a hospital room, a magical one. I could see a quick quill monitoring my condition at the foot of the bed. I struggled to focus and the quill started scratching against the parchment more and more furiously as time went on. I took a deep breath, but the tube taped to my nose prevented it. I ripped it off along with the monitoring electrodes that were fastened to my chest.

Something was wrong, I didn't feel right. My hand brushed along my stomach. Something was wrong. It felt flat; too flat. It felt empty. I started to panic. Where were the healers? Where were my parents? How was my baby? I wanted to know if anything was wrong with my baby!

I sat straight up and started to scream. I thought it would be loud enough to break a few windows. But no sound came out.

I tried again, and I was still silent.

The healers in their pristine white robes rushed in in a blur. I was screaming at them to tell me what happened to my baby, but they were not listening. I was thrashing around; some nurses came around and started to pin down my arms and legs. The healers muttered 'immobilus' and my limbs fell heavy to the bed. I kept screaming for answers. I wanted to know if my baby was alright. I wanted to know what had happened to me. I wanted to know where my parents were. I looked at the door and I thought I saw you see me through the crack, but immediately the healer injected some sort of tranquiliser into my arm and I dropped into another deep slumber.

August 2, 1997

I woke up to the sounds of mournful crying. I didn't want to open my eyes. If I did, I would have had to face the truth. I knew what had happened. I just didn't want to face it.

I slowly opened my eyes. I was immediately engulfed by the bushy hair of my mother, which I had inherited. She hugged me so hard, I felt the breath literally squeezed out of me. She pulled me up in a sitting position. I could see my mum and dad sitting by the hospital bed. Over to the other side, Ginny stood with tears in her eyes. I shouldn't have had to ask, but I did anyway.

"Where is my baby?" I asked in a stern, emotionless voice.

"Honey, you must be exhausted."

"WHERE IS MY BABY?" I screamed. Mum tried to hug me for all she was worth but I pushed her off of me. I kept screaming and screaming for everyone to leave the room. _'Get out! Get out! I hate you all! Get out of here!' _Before long, I was throwing pillows and vases at people to make them leave. Broken glass cluttered the pristine cleanliness of the hospital floor.

It felt like I had a fist clenched around my heart. I hadn't even begun to show, but I had already grown so attached. All I could do was hold onto my empty womb and wish that it was all just a dream. There was no bus. There was no confrontation. There was no hospital.

I curled onto my side away from the door. I didn't want to face my parents. I didn't want to hear the empty condolences of friends for a loneliness they could never begin to understand.

It was hours before I heard the door slowly creak open. I turned around to see who it was. It was you. I didn't know how I should have been feeling; the emotions inside my heart were so conflicted.

Confused.

Hurt.

Angry.

Sad.

And finally, lost.

I just felt so tired. I had experienced the whole emotional rollercoaster and I just couldn't feel anymore. I was just too numb. It felt like the traveling by floo when you have experienced all the highs and lows and then there's the jerk you feel when the journey is over. There's nothing left to feel.

I feigned sleep when you were in the room. I didn't really want to talk and I was content with the silence that fell between us. You sat there finally facing me; I turned my back to you. There was a painful hush in the room, but it was a long-awaited silence hinting at reconciliation, anguish and regret.

You sat there for what seemed like hours.

With my back facing you, you took the hand that I hadn't realized was still clutching my belly. I could hear your silent tears roll down. I wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but I felt frozen in my place. That's when you started talking.

"Oh, Hermione," you gasped in a strangled sob. It sounded so pained and sorrowful

"I never meant for you to get hurt. I know I said some horrible things to you and I know that I am asking so much of you to forgive me. I never meant any of the words I said. I thought that if I pushed you away, then Voldemort wouldn't have an excuse to hurt you. But then, I was the one hurting you the most. I never meant for any of this to happen. I wanted a future for us, but I just didn't see how it was possible."

You took a deep breath.

"When I saw you, lying in the middle of the road, unconscious, I thought I had really lost you. I already saw you being taken from me in the Department of Mysteries and it was just replaying over and over again in my mind. When I held you, you were so light and frail, I thought you left me. I am so very sorry."

You kept whispering 'sorry' over and over again. You held my hand to your cheek and I realized the wetness I felt there were your tears. Tears that had fallen too late to mourn for Ron. Too late to reach out to me. Too late to mean anything but regret and squandered possibilities.

Then I knew that I finally had you, my Harry, back, but at a much too large a price. We can never be the same as we were before. But, if we try, perhaps we can heal together.

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